We’d wake up in the morning and I’d say, “Good morning, Kinsey. Ready to go and see the world?”

Sounds a little Disney, right?

She would hop off the bed, elated that we’d get to spend time together that day, whatever it was.

I never thought I would bond with an animal the way I did with Kinsey. You don’t realize the bond that is happening when you have a dog - the language you’re creating to understand one another - but it happens gradually over time. You understand body language: when either one of us is mad, scared, nervous or happy.

Loyally, without question, she would be by my side, like a little shadow all day long.

I miss that.

 When I got Kinsey, I had released my first album a few years earlier and was continuing to develop my career in country music. Early on, Kinsey would join us for band rehearsal at my house. I remember my drummer, Bryce, gave her a drumstick and she walked around with it for most of the rehearsal. She was always there, ready to participate in whatever activity I was up to next.

I was busy on the road for a few years, so friends and family would watch Kinsey and my cat, Oliver, who is still with me today. There’s a guilt I always felt leaving her, but I would always come home to a smiling dog - happy to see me and that things were back to normal. It showed who she was inside.

One summer morning, Kinsey and I were on the way to our favourite dog park in Regina. Radio off, windows down, sun shining in on us. Everything seemed right. A song popped into my head, a line I’d never heard before: “I got you and a little bit of sunshine”. It led to “Little Bit of Sunshine”, the lead-off single to my 2015 album, South of the City, and my first song to get picked up and added across Canadian radio. Inspired by her, it took my music career to the next level.

 I met my wife, Erin, in 2016 at the Saskatchewan Country Music Association Awards. We instantly connected because we were both artists, but also because she had her dog, Molly, as well. We would take them both out for walks as we got to know each other. As we bonded, so did they and we all lived together when I moved to Saskatoon.

In most situations with a pet, they will go before you, but you’re never truly prepared.

One afternoon, Erin and I were out grocery shopping. We came back to Molly on the floor, while Kinsey was on the couch watching over her and looking sad. Molly had passed away from a heart condition we’d gone to the vet for earlier that day. Molly was Erin’s first dog and her world at the time.

In March of 2022, Kinsey crossed over the rainbow bridge at our home on her favourite spot on the couch in my arms, with Erin by our side in the care of my friend and veterinarian, Jesse Vargo. This happened just six short months after our beagle, Franklin, passed on unexpectedly.

When Kinsey left, I looked back at our adventures in the hope that somewhere deep down, she knew exactly what I was saying.

About two days after she passed away, I sat down and started writing a song to express how much she meant to me. I wanted to preserve her memory somehow because I couldn’t find a way to show how much I missed her.

It started with the lines “as sure as a river runs, I will pray to get you back” because I was looking for some kind of sign that she was okay and that she was with me in spirit. Then I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what she would be doing as a dog in heaven - running in the fields, being free and happy. She did this at the farm and I could tell this was her version of a perfect day.

I included some of the things that she would do in the lyrics that I missed and wrote about longing for her. I was desperate in my grief; I would do anything to have another moment with her.

In grieving Kinsey and writing the song, something else became unmistakably clear.

Some people see a dog as just a dog - a soulless creature, a trophy and nothing else. I learned this when I got word of other people making light of my situation and how it was silly to be grieving over an animal.

I could look in Kinsey’s eyes and she was more than just a dog. I pity those who can’t be vulnerable enough to love an animal.

With the song written, I decided to take it into the studio and include it on my third album.

I cried as we recorded the vocals. It was unexpected and I was embarrassed. Chris Burke-Gaffney, being a great producer and friend who understands empathy and compassion, told me it’s okay and to let it out. I really wanted to think about Kinsey as I sang the words and I did just that. It was strange and real and brought me back to what the song was for and who it was about.

Kinsey loved me unconditionally. She made me a better person in ways that I’ve maintained since she left. In a way, I think she knew she’d served her purpose, and it was time to go. I still think about her all the time, and I miss her.

“A Song for My Dog” - which I chose to release on International Dog Day - preserves Kinsey’s memory, but I want it to also honour all the other great dogs out there.

It’s not meant to make you happy. It is to help you grieve. It gives you permission to cry.

Through my journey with Kinsey and the pain of losing her, I’ll always carry a bit of hope that one day, we’ll be reunited on the other side.

Until then, I’ll keep looking for those signs.